My Flame Shines For You - A Hunger Games Fanfic of Sisterly Love
by paradiselights
Summary: Glimmer, District One's female volunteer tribute, is forced to part with her beloved younger sister, possibly forever. Coincidentally, the age difference between Glimmer and her sister is the same as that of Katniss and Prim. In the arena, Glimmer and Katniss become allies upon Glimmer watching Katniss so bravely take Prim's place at the reaping.


-Prologue-

As we make our entrance into the Town Centre of District One, Darling doesn't let go of my hand. She's gripping me so hard it's near painful and I'm almost positive that she's cutting off my circulation. I attempt to pull my hand away, but she grabs on with her other hand so that she's practically tugging on my arm.

"Darling, stop it. You're hurting me." I know how scary this is for her. If I put myself in her perspective, it's near torture. I've been the one she has depended on for nearly everything. The one she will turn to for love and advice after a rough day in school. The one she will crawl into bed with after a nightmare. I know I mean everything to my little sister, and she means just as much to me. But even though it is absolutely against her will, nothing is about to stop me from volunteering as District One's female tribute this year, in the 74th annual Hunger Games.

The worrisome pout on her face doesn't change as she wraps her arms around mine even tighter. This is only Darling's second eligible year in the games, and it has since turned her around completely. She went from being a shining, bubbly little girl to a sullen creature that rarely smiled, and when she did, it was so forced that the pain in her eyes were clashing so obviously with the crooked corners of her lips.

Looking at us now, you'd know from our expressions that we are totally out of place from our appearance. Dressed head-to-toe in perfection, our golden blonde hair permed by the finest of stylists my family could get, bounces on our shoulders and perfectly highlights our flawless, pearly shoulders. Not a single person in the Centre has glanced at our dresses without a hint of jealousy, as our mother is one of the best seamstresses in the District, carefully and precisely piecing together the colorful, elaborate (and may I throw in ridiculous) clothing pieces from the Capitol's latest fashions. Off white for me and dusted with sparkles and diamonds along the neckline, peach for her, ruffled and finished off with a sash and bow. The other District One citizens give us admiring looks. I try to smile and wave towards everyone to begin my appearance. Darling glances up, but is not one bit intrigued.

I'm beginning to get very frustrated with her. I yank my arm from her hold, grab onto hers, and pull her under an awning where no one can see us.

"Listen. Whether you like it or not, I'm volunteering today, and I need to make my impression. They are televising us from the second we enter the square. And you know who will be watching? Potential sponsors. You know what sponsors do. They send us little bits and pieces of help in the arena when we need it. Should I get hurt or sick? A sponsor is the only one who can send me medicine. What happens if my food supply runs low and I can't find anything sustainable for myself? A sponsor sends me something to keep me going. Is it close to the end of the games and I am near freezing to death? A sponsor who decides to send me matches can mean all the difference between life and death. This is a huge deal for the career tributes, Darling, and if you don't so much care as to help me look good among hundreds of thousands of people, you may as well say you DON'T care. You WANT me to die."

I immediately regret the words I just said. Darling's sea-green eyes well up with tears and she buries her face in her perfectly manicured hands. I pull her into a hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so mean. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." From her point of view, it's not a matter of whether or not I look good. It's a matter that I don't volunteer at all, just so I am likely to not be chosen. With my name in the bowl only six times and hers twice, we are on the safer side as far as chances come. Sure we're not the safest, but we have the lowest chances of anyone else our ages. In all honestly, the odds really are in our favor, as much as I hate to say it.

I let go of Darling and stoop down so I can look into her face "Just listen… this really means so much to me. You know I've been training since we were little kids. I have a good chance of winning and we both know it! There's no reason to be scared."

Darling wipes her eyes and says in a tearful voice "Say that now. There are going to be strong guys there too. Guys much larger than you are. And you know that once it comes down to the final few, they won't stand a chance. They'll take you out in a second if it gets them back home."

My eyes drift to the ground. Darling is already thirteen, still a child to me, but she's smart and she's all too much of a realist. The thought of the other male careers and how much training and preparation they've received is so nerve wracking it makes my heart pound out of anxiety. The trainers are getting better and better every year, and although I am confident in my chances of taking down enough tributes, my chances of actually winning the games are not quite 100%.There is absolutely no guarantee of me returning home again.

"There's nothing to worry about. Hey, you've seen me take out those huge guys in my training ring right?!" Darling laughs as she wipes away her last few tears "We'll save the worrying for when it's absolutely necessary. For now, let's just try to be confident. Enjoy all the attention and the admiration while it lasts." I tuck a white-gold ringlet behind her ear and look into her eyes as I place my hand on her cheek "Alright?" Giving a final sniffle, Darling nods, and I take her hand and we leave the awning to head for registration.


End file.
